


Starving

by jagnikjen



Series: The Chronicles of Blake Moran [4]
Category: Madam Secretary
Genre: Anal Sex, Blake has a hot hockey boyfriend, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:15:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9442292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jagnikjen/pseuds/jagnikjen
Summary: Blake and Oliver finally do the deed. It happens on a sultry July night.





	

It happens on a sultry July night.

Blake is buzzed. Not only by the fact that a very hot, very sweet professional hockey player seems to like him enough to want to date him, but from the three Long Island Iced Teas he’s consumed.

Oliver has been in no hurry to take Blake to bed since they’d made it official, which Blake finds equal parts charming and frustrating. They’ve been dating a month now. He likes that Oliver wants to get to know him, wants more from him than just sex. On the other hand, Oliver’s bulges certainly do it for Blake. Shoulders, biceps, thighs, groin. Oliver is a show-er. Grower remains to be seen. Any time they spend together leaves Blake half hard and simmering with want. He rubs one out more often than not after arriving home from a date.

Verdant isn’t a gay club, although it seems skewed towards a predominantly male clientele. The club is mostly dark, only the bar areas offering decent illumination, leaving the dancefloor shadowy and providing a semblance of anonymity. The table tops are lit from within with strings of blinking fairy lights.

The bass is deep. It thumps and thrums in the air and Blake’s skin hums with the vibrations. Laser beams cast multi-colored streams of light across the dancefloor in random patterns, high enough to only be interrupted by waving hands and the longest of arms.

Oliver dances behind him, his larger frame bracketing Blake’s. Not plastered against him and grinding, like many of the male couples, but close enough that Oliver’s thighs, his abs, his arms, his dick, whisper along Blake’s body as they sway and rock to the rhythm of the music.

It’s a worse tease than if Oliver were grinding up on him.

“Let’s get out of here,” Oliver says in Blake’s ear. The deep timber, the warm breath sends a shiver down Blake’s spine. Oh _God_ yes. He nods.

The car is parked in a dark corner and Oliver pins Blake against the Patriot, his large hands heavy on Blake’s hips, his soft lips hungry and demanding. Blake skims his hands up Oliver’s muscled arms, across his broad shoulders, and slides his fingers into Oliver’s soft hair. Oliver’s weight pressing into him gives Blake chills. He’d like to be pressed into a mattress right now. He breaks the kiss, and they’re both panting. “Let’s go back to our room. Please.”

Oliver had kidnapped him and driven him down to Richmond for the weekend and had booked them into a bed and breakfast. Blake has been gleefully hopeful that they’re finally going to do something more than kiss and make out.

“Mmm.” With a last kiss, Oliver pulls away and opens the passenger door.

By the time Oliver parks in the small parking lot of the B&B, Blake is ready to crawl out of his skin, definitely out of his clothes. Oliver hasn’t kept his hands off Blake the whole ride, short as it was, holding hands and sliding his fingers along Blake’s inseam. When he’d traced the line of Blake’s zipper and his erection beneath it, Blake had coughed in surprise. He’s so getting laid. It’s about freaking time too. Who knew a professional athlete had such restraint? He’s not complaining, but…he’s ready. His blood hums through his veins, and his dick aches to be released, to be touched.

The lobby of the bed and breakfast is deserted, although a small television plays an old crime drama. They pass through quietly and ascend the stairs without making any noise aside from the faint rustle of clothes and their soft footfalls. At the top of the stairs, Oliver pulls Blake against him, squeezing his ass, thrusting his own erection against Blake’s hip. Blake’s breathing comes in short sharp pants.

“C’mon, Oliver, please. I want you so much.” Can a person go insane from being too aroused?

Oliver fumbles with the key, but as soon as they’re inside, Oliver pushes Blake against the door and devours his mouth.

Their room is small and dark, kind of rustic with all the wood; hardwood flooring in the bedroom and wood paneled walls in the en suite with radiant heat beneath the stone floor. The bedroom walls are papered with a lightly flocked burgundy fleur-de-lis pattern, and the queen size four-poster bed takes up most of the floor space. A dresser with a flat screen TV sits across from the bed and a pair of wing chairs bracket a small round table the corner turret.

Oliver shifts so his back’s against the wall and pulls Blake’s back against his chest—spooning standing up. Oliver’s hands move to Blake’s waistband and undo the belt, button and fly. His large hands slide beneath the elastic of Blake’s briefs and push his slacks down around his thighs. A kaleidoscope of butterflies takes flight in Blake’s stomach. His breath shallows as Oliver strokes him with long, tight pulls that shove him ever closer to the edge. Oliver laves the tender spot between Blake’s jaw and ear with his tongue and Blake’s hips jerk forward. “Fuck, Oliver.” A shudder shimmies down his body at the nip along his collarbone. “Please. Shit. Stop, I’m gonna come—but not yet. I want you in me.”

Oliver’s hand stills, but he holds Blake to him and his mouth latches onto the sensitive skin on the back of Blake’s neck and sucks, licks, and nips for a few moments and then finally says, “C’mon.” He nudges Blake into the room and starts pulling off his own clothes. Oliver disappears into the en suite and comes back with a tube of lube and a couple of condoms. He yanks the duvet and top sheet back and climbs in. Blake circles the room and flicks on the old-fashioned wall sconces with small, low wattage chandelier bulbs that cast dim lighting over the bed. He wants to see.

He joins Oliver on the bed, both of them completely naked. Finally. Oliver’s body is gorgeous. All those generous bulges revealed for Blake’s perusal. The cut of his hips is sharp. There’s not an ounce of fat anywhere. His dick is thick and he’s uncut, which bothers Blake not at all. He suspected so, seeing as how Oliver’s from Finland. It’s nestled in a thick bush of light brown hair.

“Your body’s amazing,” Blake breathes. He gets to have this. They’re dating, and this fine specimen of manhood is all his.

“Yours is nice too, Blake, don’t think that it’s not. You’re all long lithe limbs, lean muscles, smooth skin. It’s very sexy.” Oliver noses his way from Blake’s shoulder to his hip bone and to his flagging erection. The pop of the lube startles Blake, and he sucks in a breath when cold and wet cover his hole; he releases his breath and Oliver pushes a finger into him. God, yeah, this is perfect. It’s been a while since he’s done this, and Oliver’s thick blunt finger feels so damn good. Blake relaxes into the mattresses, legs parting to make room, enjoying the stretch of his body. When Oliver hits his prostate, energy zings along his skin and he gasps. Another few strokes and Blake’s ready for Oliver.

“Oliver, please, now.”

Oliver dons a condom and lines himself up, one hand splayed possessively around Blake’s left thigh, and slides in. He groans with the motion, not stopping until he’s fully seated. “Fuck, Blake,” he says breathlessly and begins to move.

Blake clasps the bottom of the headboard and curls his unsupported leg around Oliver’s waist, pushing into the stroke. They find a rhythm and Blake closes his eyes, sinks into the feeling of it. Relishes the slickness, the fullness of their joining.

They continue that way for a while; Blake doesn’t know how long. He’s just floating in this sea of pleasure. His dick is leaking, smearing pre-come on his belly. Oliver grunts in time with his thrusts; he shifts his angle slightly and finds Blake’s prostate again. His vision whites out even with his eyes close and his whole body clenches, pulling a moan from Oliver. “Shit, Oliver.”

“I’m close, Blake. You?” he gasps.

“Go for it,” Blake says, taking his erection in hand and pulling at himself, long, hard tugs.

Oliver grasps Blake at the hips and pounds him deep and smooth and perfect. Five thrusts later, Oliver stills, fully sheathed and comes with a low-throated moan. Blake can feel the pulsing of Oliver’s dick inside him and that pushes him over the edge. He comes with a stuttered grunt, adding to the mess on his stomach.

Oliver pulls out slowly and lowers himself to Blake’s body, nuzzling and kissing him. “Mmm, Blake, that was well worth the wait.”

Blake’s mostly still come-drunk and buzzed. It was everything he expected and more. He kisses back, drags his fingers up and down Oliver’s back, loving the play of the muscles under his touch. “Please don’t make me wait that long again.”

Oliver nips at Blake’s chin, at his Adam’s apple, at his collarbone. “Mmm, no. Now that I’ve had this taste of you…there’s no going back.”


End file.
